Jolly nice girl, too. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment.
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